Slang: An Evolution In Language

Here I am decked out in a pair of slightly-tarnished denims topped with a blue sweater emblazoned with the word 'YALE' across the front. It's 6PM and I find myself walking through this hellhole of a mall that I absolutely despise. But alas, I must take this route if I intend on making it home on time to enjoy the luxury that is Mom's homemade meatloaf. This mall is a fucking joke, littered to the brim with assholes and cunts alike. Conceited and ignorant assholes turn the aura of simple consumerism into toxic poison. These so-called 'people' are nothing more than empty shells; they may appear whole and functioning on the outside but deep down, they are worthless. Walking past these dry, lifeless bodies fills my body with rage and disgust. What pathetic cunts...

Just my fucking luck. I haven't even ventured through the mall for a minute and I see something that nearly sends me bursting into a fit of rage and uncontrollable violence; Jehovah's Witnesses. Who the fuck do they think they are preaching their shit to me -- I don't tell them how to live their lives, they shouldn't be telling me how to live mine. Look at the little shits dressed in their black dress-suits obviously infected with Black-Robe Disease thinking as if they're some smarmy judge with absolute authority. The whole notion of there being a greater being is pure bullshit in my eyes. If there is a greater being, you tell me why the world is so fucked up as it is. I've had missionaries tell me that my apatheism will lead me down a desolate and lonely road. Well you know what, they're the fucking idiots throwing their lives away to some fictional man. At the end of the day, I'd rather be a loner than a blind, ignorant sheep.

I manage to control myself and avoid being approached by the Witnesses but before long, I find myself staring at another caricature of normality. Call me old-fashioned, but fashion is a hobby for the wealthy. If you can't afford to look good, don't afford to look cheap. I'm casually strolling across the mall when I set eyes on this cheap-shit recessionista. Her idea of looking like Angelina Jolie involves plastering herself with cheap-grade lipstick and lining herself with a scarf that fails to mirror the style and class of Louis Vuitton. A fucking pathetic attempt to be chic and hip. When the economy is in the shits, the last thing we should be doing is going out and buying clothes to whore ourselves out. But if you do plan on doing that, the best thing to do would be to at least whore yourself out while protecting what little dignity you have through money. What a fucking whore...

And you think that the whore would be enough to piss me off but who should walk by but some fucking idiot -- who's clearly from a Middle-class upbringing -- dressed as if he's some urban, ghetto thug. Pants hanging well below his waistline, t-shirts that extend past his knees and a face that looks like he's on a constant high. Cunts like him piss me off. Who the fuck do they think they're fooling? I hear the fucker talk to his friends with an irritable Blaccent that clearly proves that not only is he about as tough as a marble tabletop, but he has never experienced anything more troubling than a math test. With a bandanna hanging out of his back-pocket and a ski mask tucked under his collar as if it were still skiiing season, the fucker's attempt at being sheisty makes me want to show him how tough he really is. Take him outside and beat the sense into him. It's cunts like him that prove to me there is no God. I oughta introduce this guy to that Jehovah's Witness.

Struggling to maintain my composure, I stroll past the food-court and put on my headphones. Being welcomed to the tunes of 'Karma Police' sure make the trip a lot easier. Society's a joke I tell myself as I rush through the murky swamp that houses the shops and boutiques. I think of Mom's dinner and hopefully she cooks something that makes the trip through this shithole worthwhile.